Pavo struggled to writhe free as Amadocus fastened his grip around his neck and squeezed his throat. His eyes bulged in their sockets. He couldn’t breathe. The Thracian’s fingers pressed hard against his throat cartilage. His brain felt as if it was swelling inside his skull.
‘Die, Roman!’ Amadocus bellowed.
Pavo fought off the aching tiredness in his limbs. He refused to die at the hands of the Thracian, even if meant exhausting his body ahead of the fight with the bear. He tensed his shoulder muscles and jerked to the side, pushing up on Amadocus with his palms as he turned. His strength caught the Thracian off guard. He let out a sharp cry as Pavo threw him off and sent him tumbling head first against the latrine bucket. The other fighters jumped back as its contents spilled on to the floor and drenched Amadocus in foul excrement. The Thracian spat waste out of his mouth and staggered to his feet. At that instant several guards thrust open the door and grabbed Amadocus before he could strike another blow at Pavo. Four of them clamped their hands around his arms. He tried in vain to wrestle free from the guards, snarling at Pavo the whole time, his hair dripping with filth.
At that moment Nerva burst in. The harassed arena official stepped around the stinking puddle as the guards restrained Amadocus.
‘I’ll kill you, Pavo!’ the Thracian spat. ‘This I swear!’
‘I think the Atlas bear might have something to say about that,’ Nerva declared as he glanced disapprovingly at Amadocus. ‘It’s time. Both of you. You’re on.’
Pavo and Amadocus were manhandled towards the antechamber door by the guards. The other fighters stared silently at the men, painfully aware that they would soon be treading the same path.
‘What about our weapons?’ Amadocus asked.
‘You won’t have any,’ Nerva replied flatly.
‘Against a bear?’ Amadocus spluttered, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. ‘Is this some kind of fucking joke?’
The official shot a severe look at him. ‘Do I look like I’m joking?’
‘On whose orders?’ Pavo asked, shaking his groggy head clear.
‘The sponsor, of course.’ Nerva puffed out his cheeks and made a mark on his tablet with his stylus. ‘Can’t say I blame him. We’re running behind schedule as it is. You were both supposed to die in your last fight.’ He shrugged. ‘First time for everything, I suppose. Now hurry up! I’ve got a tight schedule to keep to and the crowd is getting restless.’
Without further delay, Nerva led the small party of guards and beast fighters out of the holding pen and back down the passageway towards the gate. Ahead of them Atellus, the animal hunter, exited the arena and handed his sword to a nearby attendant. He noticed Pavo passing by and his jaw dropped in astonishment.
‘By the gods, Pavo!’ he announced gleefully. ‘It’s you!’
Pavo stopped in his tracks. He forced a smile at the landowner’s son. ‘Atellus. What a pleasant surprise. You’re competing in the games, I see.’
Atellus glanced down at his blood-splattered tunic and smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to fight in the arena. Thankfully my father is a favourite of the imperial court. He twisted a few arms and managed to get me added to the schedule. It’s rather exciting, isn’t it? The noise of the crowd, the feel of the sword in your grip. Nothing else like it …’ He shook his head in amusement. ‘I must say, you’ve started quite the fashion here in Rome. Thanks to you, the wealthy young men of Rome are in thrall to the games.’
His words sent a cold shiver through Pavo. ‘You’re participating of your own free will?’
‘Of course. I was just taking part for a bit of fun. I wouldn’t stoop to being a real gladiator.’
‘You will never be that. Not while you shame yourself by massacring defenceless animals.’
Atellus laughed him off. ‘Say what you like, but I can’t wait to see the faces of my dinner companions tonight. They’ll be green with envy!’ His expression shifted and he cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, I must go. Best of luck to you.’
Pavo watched his childhood friend saunter down the passageway, a leaden despair weighing heavily in his chest. He was struck by a sharp memory of his former life, the exotic food and heated political debates over a jug of good Falernian wine. The tragic injustice of it all struck him.
A clammy hand clasped his arm and one of the guards jerked him towards the open gate.
‘Move it, scum!’ the guard rasped.
Facing forward, Pavo took a deep breath and stepped out into the arena with Amadocus.
Jeers cascaded down on the two men from the now sparse crowd. There were several large gaps in the galleries, Pavo noted. Many of the spectators had grown bored of the morning programme of beast fights, in which dozens of men, some hunting in packs, others fighting individually, had been pitched against a bewildering variety of creatures, including giraffes, hippopotamuses and panthers. By now the novelty of the exotic beasts had clearly worn off and clutches of spectators were temporarily abandoning their seats, ducking out of the exits to refresh their wine cups at the merchant stalls lining the streets outside, ahead of the midday crucifixions. Pavo couldn’t help noticing that several members of the remaining audience were stifling yawns as he took to the sand. The bitter realisation struck him that he would not even be granted the dignity of dying in front of a decent crowd.
With the arena almost a third empty, he could clearly hear the excitable mob in the upper terraces as they shouted abuse about him and his family in delirious voices. Several of the spectators made offensive hand gestures in his direction, their voices hoarse from hours of drunken singing.
The Atlas bear growled behind the opposite gate. A rank breeze fluttered across the arena as the gate creaked open, and a moment later the bear trudged out of the portal on all fours, followed by a small party of handlers. Some of the spectators seated at the lower galleries leant forward in their seats, commanding the beast to attack the fighters. As the bear neared, Pavo saw that a leash was fastened around its neck, with an animal handler standing to one side of it and pulling tight on the leash to the point of almost choking it. Behind the bear stood a pair of attendants, prodding it forward with wooden sticks. Four members of the Praetorian Guard kept watch at the gate, gripping the pommels of their swords in the event of trouble.
‘How do we defeat this monster, then?’ Amadocus asked.
‘We don’t,’ Pavo replied coldly.
The Thracian rounded on him angrily. ‘There must be something we can do,’ he spluttered. ‘You were full of bright ideas against that fucking lion! You’re the expert here, do something!’
Pavo shook his head ruefully. ‘I’m afraid without any weapons to defend ourselves with, we don’t stand a chance. That bear is going to kill us.’
Amadocus was about to reply when he was interrupted by a guttural cry from across the arena. The bear had abruptly stopped in its tracks and was refusing to budge.
‘What’s going on?’ Amadocus asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Pavo replied. ‘But it looks as if the bear’s panicking.’
The handlers yanked on the chain and poked at the beast with their wooden sticks. The bear stubbornly refused to move and let out a deep wail. Infuriated by the animal’s show of dissent, the handler tugged harder on the leash in an attempt to force it to continue towards Pavo and Amadocus. He only succeeded in enraging the creature. The bear thrashed violently at the leash, the chain tensing under the immense strain. Sensing the situation getting out of control, the handler shouted to the attendants for help. His companions bludgeoned the bear with their sticks. The beast brushed them away with a dismissive snort. As they retreated to a safe distance, the bear moaned and slumped to the ground.
Heated mutters broke out in the galleries. The handler turned to the imperial box in confusion. Pavo looked up to see Pallas glaring at Murena, and the aide to the imperial secretary shot up and gestured furiously to the Praetorian Guards keeping watch by the gate, urging them to assist the handler. Stirring into action, two of the guards hurried across the sand. One of them was brandishing a legionary sword. He stabbed the tip in the bear then jumped back. The crowd cheered. The bear howled. Droplets of blood glistened through its fur. In a blur of motion, the animal rounded on the handler and pawed at its leash.